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The Man Who Knew Too Much | Gilbert K. Chesterton | |
V. The Fad Of The Fisherman |
Page 9 of 13 |
"You spoke of bad news," said Fisher. "Well, there is really bad news now. I am afraid this is a bad business." "What bad news do you mean?" asked his friend, conscious of something strange and sinister in his voice. "The sun has set," answered Fisher. He went on with the air of one conscious of having said something fatal. "We must get somebody to go across whom he will really listen to. He may be mad, but there's method in his madness. There nearly always is method in madness. It's what drives men mad, being methodical. And he never goes on sitting there after sunset, with the whole place getting dark. Where's his nephew? I believe he's really fond of his nephew." "Look!" cried March, abruptly. "Why, he's been across already. There he is coming back." And, looking up the river once more, they saw, dark against the sunset reflections, the figure of James Bullen stepping hastily and rather clumsily from stone to stone. Once he slipped on a stone with a slight splash. When he rejoined the group on the bank his olive face was unnaturally pale. The other four men had already gathered on the same spot and almost simultaneously were calling out to him, "What does he say now?" "Nothing. He says--nothing." Fisher looked at the young man steadily for a moment; then he started from his immobility. and, making a motion to March to follow him, himself strode down to the river crossing. In a few moments they were on the little beaten track that ran round the wooded island, to the other side of it where the fisherman sat. Then they stood and looked at him, without a word. |
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The Man Who Knew Too Much Gilbert K. Chesterton |
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